


Dreamy Figures

by awooo



Category: None - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, First work - Freeform, Gen, Here we go, Narcolepsy, Paranoia, Short Stories, i take constructive criticism, i try to post a story once a day, narcoleptic kid, please tell me how bad this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awooo/pseuds/awooo
Summary: Short stories written about a little dreamer who has a very vivid imagination. Also they're non-binary so there's that.





	1. Soggy Cereal

A soggy bowl of cereal. That’s had they had for breakfast. A soggy, soupy, gross bowl of sugary mush. They pushed it around in their bowl for a minute, before they stood up and carried it over to the bathroom. Down the toilet it went, swirling around in an unpleasant light brown vortex. The bowl made its way to the sink, nearly too full for the bowl to find a nice resting spot. They, the person who flushed the cereal down the toilet, wasn’t a morning person. They hated getting up early. The clock shouted to them, in a vibrant green, that it was 6:23 am. They groaned. They hadn’t planned on getting up this early. They were going to sleep in. They were going to lounge around all day and eat junk and watch tv.  


  
It was wednesday. A dreaded day for them. They didn’t really know why they hated wednesday so much. It just seemed like a day that was worthy of hatred. They sluggishly made their way to the couch. Maybe, just maybe, they could fall back asleep. They lay down, closing their eyes and draped the colorful blanket that sagged over their shoulders onto them. A yawn, then a drift into dreamland.  


  
Colors filled their mind’s eye. People they’ve met, and people they’ve yet to meet. Confusion. Knowledge of things to come. Inspiration. Friends. Family. Finally, they landed in an unknown world. Or had it been visited before? They could not remember. There were friendly faces and people they knew would betray them.  


  
Medieval. That was the only way to describe the setting around them. Fuzzy, though they were, it was clear to the dreamer. They could hear the horses. They could smell them. They could hear the traders and shop owners selling their wares. They could smell the molten nickel and iron from the blacksmith, and they could hear his wife across the way coming to him with his lunch. The friends around them, a classic RPG lineup: a warrior, a barbarian, a thief, a monk, a paladin, and a cleric. There was someone missing, however. The dreamer looked down at themself. They were the missing variable: the mage.  


  
Staff in hand, they smile, joyously, but also nervously. They were the apparent leader of the party. Their peers looked at them, the paladin and barbarian towering over them. Comfort. The height was comforting to them. It was strange, to say the least. They hadn’t even known thee people for but a few seconds, but they were their closest thing they had to friends. They nearly began to cry from this sudden wave of joy that struck them.  


  
Just then, just as they were their happiest, their tired eyes opened to the dull life they lived. Something lay on their chest. They looked, only to see their two cats, one who’s nearly solid black with little white furs here and there and a smaller gray one who has a sort of tuxedo look to her fur. They were both full grown, but it was hard to believe that Matilda was as old as she was and still as small as a kitten. The awoken dreamer sighed, giving a slight smile. They were the awoken dreamer’s real friends in the real world.  


  
How bizarre.


	2. Beautiful Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being swallowed by an inky pitch blackness....

Beautiful minds. Some people are born with them naturally. Some learn and are given beautiful minds by their teachers. They were not like the others, however. They thought themself to not have a beautiful mind. They thought it was ugly and dark, like pitch. Then yet, how are their dreams so bright? How are their dreams so vivid? They wished they knew the answer. Maybe these dreams weren’t even theirs. Maybe they weren’t even dreams at all. Perhaps they were memories from long ago. Past lives long forgotten.

Confusion struck, as it always did. They wondered about these things and daydreamed, yet they did not have the answer. They didn’t have anything even close to an answer. Their questions would never get answered, for they would never ask them out loud. Maybe to their cats. Their cats, however, could not answer their questions. They wished they could. Oh, how they very much wished they would answer their questions.

A scowl. A slight scratch on their left arm. A yawn, as always. They began walking, to nowhere really, but walking all the same it was. They rubbed their eyes. They stung from staying up last night. But maybe they stung from sleeping too much. Or maybe they stung from being in this constantly dark environment. A shrug. A yawn. A socked foot on the kitchen linoleum floor. Hunger. They were hungry. Well, not really, but it was something that could fill the endless black hole of their loneliness. They could turn on the television to trick their brain into thinking there was someone else here with them. Paranoia. No, that’s a bad idea.

A reach out for something. A banana? No. Something sweet? No, but maybe later. The chips? Yes. They were salty and savory, just what they had been craving. It wouldn’t do much for their ‘hunger’ but it was something for now. A soft melody escaped their lips. Unknown, but continuous. It never ended. It was sweet, much unlike the chips.

A yawn. Sleep more? Perhaps. Maybe if they slept, these fears would leave them be. Perhaps. Perhaps…

Perhaps if they hadn’t stayed up last night, they wouldn’t be so tired. Perhaps if they hadn’t slept in for so long, beyond noon and beyond afternoon, they wouldn’t have this piercing headache.

Anxiety. A little guppy swam around in their stomach. Something had them worried. Something had fallen upon them that had dragged them down. They sat, low on the floor, chips still in hand. Stinging. Their eyes stung. Anxiety. Paranoia. Anxiety and paranoia stacked up on their chest. Heavy. Their body and eyelids felt heavy. They slumped onto the floor. A gray blob in their blurry vision joined them, laying on the ground next to them. It must have seemed like a game to her. It always seemed that way to her. A black blob, much more blobbier now in their growingly more blurry vision. Assumably, he lay somewhere near the gray blob. 

Silence. The house was quiet. Blissfully so, it seemed. Dreamy haze overtook them. They awoke, but not in the dull home. Their surroundings were colorful. They were vivid. They were so different than where they were before. Your very own “beautiful mind”. The most beautiful thing about it was that it was all yours. You didn’t have to share it with anyone. Not even the people in your dreams, seeing that they were just imaginary. 

A voice. Small, seemingly pure, seemingly female. A hazy figure approached, blonde and short, in a white sundress. Cute. The little girl was definitely the epitome of pure. Something stood out, however. Her eyes. They weren’t blue, as expected. They were dark red. They made her seem like she was hiding something.

She spoke, but the dreamer could not make out her words. Was she speaking in tongues? No. No, her voice was just fuzzy. Everything about her was fuzzy. Her features seemed like they were behind a fogged-over window. Strange. The whole ordeal was strange. The dreamer seemed to sit in a vast field that reached as far as the eye could see. A sea of wild flowers. They cupped one on their hand and it became clear: a spider lily.

Something jumped in her chest. A morbid, unsettling feeling. They looked up to were the little girl was standing. Gone. A frantic look around. Pitch black. The lily in their hand mented away to nothing. They tried to take in a breath. Choking. They choked on the black around them. It consumed them entirely until they saw nothing but pitch. They themself seemed to be gone.

They floated down a long, twisted stream of pitch. But they could not see anything. Heir hands, their body, everything was gone. But they could feel it. The fluid around them. The rushing, flowing fluid. It wasn’t slow, either. It seemed to go as fast as a roller coaster. Perhaps this was their fears consuming them?

Perhaps, perhaps…

Perhaps meant nothing to them now.

A jolt. Their eyes blinked open. The black blob, now sitting in front of them, gazed down to them with green eyes. A sigh of relief escaped their lips. A strange feeling rushed over them. It wasn’t anxiety or paranoia, but it still felt just as unpleasant. 

They sat up and drew in deep, long breaths. The feeling crawled away, very slowly, but when it was gone, they felt much better. They looked down to their companion and placed a hand on his head. Kit’s the only one they can trust in this world, besides Matilda.

Bizarre, untrustworthy world.


	3. Rolling Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stormy night and a rocky boat.

Rolling thunder. Flashing lightning. The sky was a swirling mess of dark gray and black, seeming to swallow the full moon in the night’s sky. Crack, boom. The sky seemed to yell in agony as each lightning bolt whipped across its tender flesh. The sky quivered and trembled. It begged for mercy from the unceasing storm. The storm, bold and brash, continued to punish the sky and the moon and the stars above it.

They trembled. They feared the noises and flashes of the storm. Sleeping seemed like something they could do to calm their nerves, but alas, they could not sleep with this nonsense. Two balls of fur held them down. They could not move from their spot on the couch, as fear of waking their peaceful sleep.

They wondered what their cats may dream of. Swirling colors of purple and little treats like the wet food they got every night. Running. Chasing their prey. Freedom.

A bit of remorse swelled in their body. They felt guilty for keeping their cats inside their whole life. But if they had let them out, would they return?

Why would they want to? 

They’d come back for me, they thought. The guild slowly melted away. They pet their cats. Matilda yawned, sitting up. Kit followed, but he walked off to someplace unknown. Matilda, small and sweet, looked into their eyes. Her orange eyes offset their sea green eyes. It was almost as if she was trying to say something to them. However, they could not read minds, and they could not speak cat.

They picked her up and set her aside, then walked to the nearest window. The storm raged on outside. They sighed. Sleep would not be something to come to them soon if this went on all through the night.

An idea. A thought. They would listen to music to drown out the noises of the angered god outside. 

They grabbed their phone and snagged their earbuds and walked off to bed. Sluggishly, they managed to crawl into bed, their fluffy blankets and hoard of pillows surrounding them like a nest. Soft melodies entered their mind, the music from their phone to their ears. The storm was gone. It hadn’t ceased, but to them, it had. 

Drifting, swaying, back and forth. Constant motion overtook them and their senses. They plunged into deep, dark water. Something pulled them back up. Water kit their face. They opened their eyes to reveal they were no longer in their home, but on a boat. A large ship. They’d been here before. They didn’t remember much about it, but they remembered this massive ship. They remembered the cruel people on the ship.

A snarl from afar. Someone was certainly upset at the presence of them. That someone had a long, scraggly beard. He didn’t seem to keep it untangles. Crumbs and other things conjured within the nest of hair. He was a pirate, as was the person who had pulled the hazy dreamer out of the water. 

The men spoke for a little bit. They glanced between themselves and the dreamer before them. They smirked. This certainly did not seem good to them. They remained calm, however. Somehow, they knew something would happen to these men that would foil their plans.

Boom, crack. Lightning, then the falling of the mast of their ship after it had been struck. Joy swelled in their heart. They’d be free for another day until some other ship comes and pulls them out of the water. They plunge back into the water and swim away with their tail, grabbing a few fish as they went and chowing down.

Merfolk do get hungry, after all, and you can’t just expect them to eat seaweed all day.

Crack, boom.

Thunder woke them up. Their earbuds had eventually found their way out of their ears and sat beside their head. They could still hear the music, playing softly through the little speakers. They looked up and out the window, certainly not surprised that it was still gloomy out there and that the storm was still raging on. They looked at their clock. Nearly witching hour. They sighed and rolled over, plugging their earbuds back in and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Bizarrely upset atmosphere.


	4. Closed Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring how you wished you were can be funny... yet, it can also be very frightening.

A closed door. Something unseen. Something to be discovered. It was what was behind that closed door which they dreaded. Something they’ve locked away for all these years.

Today was the day. Today was the day they opened that locked door and accepted that it was part of their life.

A key in hand. A twist of the door knob. A soft moan from the door.

Colors flooded out and engulfed them. Something joyful. Their gray figure seemed to absorb this light and color from the door. As it flooded past them, they changed. Their body was different now. It wasn’t their own. It belonged to someone else, someone they’ve never even met.

Someone who was them in a previous lifetime. They were tall. Slender. Blonde. They were someone completely opposite to who they were prior. It was odd, yet it felt right. Something swelled within them, maybe a feeling of bitterness that this was not who they were.

The door opened up to their ideal image. Someone they’d like to be. Someone who they miss being. Someone they wished they knew.

They spoke, a soft, quiet voice. One that seemed it belonged to a child. They looked back at themself again. Their form had changed once more. Brown, short hair, most likely not brushed, pale skin, a private elementary school uniform. At the bottom of their bow legged stance were their feet, one with a sock and one with a shoe. Their sock was dirty, as if they had been playing outside just in their sock. Something dripped off their face. Their small hand cupped their cheek. Tears streamed from their face. Sadness struck. They were lost. Before them, no longer a closed door, but somewhere strange. 

The grass looked soft, flowing in the wind, but as they brushed their small hand over it pierced their delicate skin. More tears swelled in their eyes as an unknown liquid streamed from their dirt-covered hand. It wasn’t blood. It was a very faint blue, nearly white. Some might call it heavenly.

The liquid began to glow, bright, so bright that the horizon beyond vanished. They covered their eyes. It was too bright. They were blinded by this blue brightness. Then, everything went dark.

They opened their eyes. They were themself again. They were in their bed. It’s funny how a dream can expose you to yourself like that, they thought. A familiar weight breathed at theat feet. A faint smile. They closed their eyes again to continue their odd dream, but it never returned.

Bizarre self images.


End file.
